Chapter 130: My Name Is Tom Riddle

Having witnessed a spectacle as grand as the International Confederation of Wizards election, Xiwen felt that life at Hogwarts had become rather mundane.

He drifted through the second half of his first year with lackluster ease, passed his final exams with unremarkable effort, secured the top rank in his year without fanfare, and greeted the start of the next term with the same lack of excitement.

Time flew, and it was now September 1, 1938—the annual day for young witches and wizards to begin their schooling.

Amidst the throng of students hauling trunks and bags, Xiwen traveled light. Clutching only a cat, he boarded the Hogwarts Express with ease.

Ever since learning the Undetectable Extension Charm from Newt, Xiwen had expanded the space within his pocket watch several times over. It was now roughly the size of the Slytherin common room—while his level of spellcasting could not quite replicate the vastness of Newt’s suitcase, it was more than sufficient to achieve a fraction of that grandeur.

Unlike the day he first enrolled, the kitten was now full of life and capable of spatial leaping; even a cage could not contain her. Consequently, Xiwen simply abandoned the cage and boarded the train with the kitten in his arms.

As usual, Xiwen found an empty compartment and sat down. He placed the kitten on the soft seat, then pulled out the bird-shaped cat teaser he had received from Newt and began playing happily with her.

After his previous train rides, he had concluded that he was perhaps not suited to reading on the express; every time he opened a book, he was interrupted by all manner of bizarre events. Thus, he decided it was better to simply relax and skip the reading altogether.

After playing with the kitten for a while, a young witch with blonde hair opened the compartment door. Seeing Xiwen, she walked in and slumped down beside him, looking listless.

"What’s wrong, El? You don’t look well." Xiwen set the teaser on the table, letting the kitten bat at it, and looked at the pale-faced girl.

"It’s nothing major, just feeling a bit run-down lately. Probably a cold," Elianora said, shaking her head slightly as she leaned back against the seat.

"You should get some rest, then!" Xiwen said, pulling a potion vial from his pocket watch space and handing it to her.

Since expanding the space, Xiwen had filled it with all sorts of items, useful or otherwise, out of a lingering fear of encountering another emergency.

"If it’s a cold, drinking this should make you feel better," Xiwen said.

"Is it a Wit-Sharpening Potion?" Elianora asked, glancing at the glass vial.

Upon receiving Xiwen’s affirmation, she shook her head like a rattle.

"No way, I don’t want steam coming out of my ears!" Elianora pouted in refusal.

Xiwen was about to press the matter when a commotion from the adjacent compartment interrupted him. There was a loud "bang," the partition wall shuddered violently, and a string of foul language echoed down the corridor.

Xiwen frowned, thrust the potion into Elianora’s hand, and stepped out of the compartment.

The door to the next compartment was wide open. A young boy with a rough, unsophisticated appearance lay on the floor outside, cursing incessantly.

"You vile, filthy Mudblood! You must not have heard of the might of our Sacred Twenty-Eight! I’m telling you, I’ll make you regret this!"

"Verdimillious!"

A voice rang out from within the compartment, followed by a burst of emerald light that flared right in front of the crude boy on the floor.

Xiwen hurriedly stepped forward, blocking the green spell with a Shield Charm. He felt the power of the incantation, and his expression darkened.

Xiwen was very familiar with this spell, as it was an upgraded version of the green sparks he often used; its purpose was to cause an explosion, granting it a certain level of offensive capability.

Professor Galatea Merrythought had taught them this spell in the second half of the previous term, and as new second-years, they had only been studying it for a few months. This meant it was highly likely that an older student was bullying a first-year!

With this thought, Xiwen looked sternly at the boy standing inside the compartment.

It had to be said that his first impression of the boy who had cast the spell was not bad—dark hair, dark eyes, a detail that made Xiwen feel a sense of kinship. Furthermore, he possessed an exceptionally fair complexion, and though his face remained youthful, it already held a hint of an almost uncanny, striking beauty. Even dressed in worn-out clothes, he could not hide an air of distinction.

Xiwen stared at the boy’s young face, momentarily stunned.

He had no memory of this face. It was clear, then, that this was a new student who had yet to be sorted, contrary to Xiwen’s earlier assumption.

Just then, the voice of the crude boy came from behind him.

"Rosier, this is the Mudblood who attacked me! You must help me take revenge!" he shouted loudly.

Xiwen was surprised that the boy recognized him, so he glanced back at him.

Seeing the distinctive, rough face, Xiwen suddenly recalled that they had met a few times during what Sandrine called "normal social interactions"—this boy was Dick Lestrange, the heir to the British branch of the Lestrange family.

"Dick Lestrange?" Xiwen raised an eyebrow and asked.

"That’s right, it’s me," Lestrange said to Xiwen with a serious expression. "I don’t like the name Dick; please call me Lestrange, thank you!"

Then, he suddenly feigned grievance and wailed loudly, "Rosier, our families have always been on good terms—you simply must help me take revenge!"

Hearing his affected tone, Xiwen’s eye twitched. Suppressing the urge to kick him, he turned back toward the boy in the compartment.

The handsome boy inside had also realized that Xiwen and Lestrange knew each other. Once Xiwen turned his gaze back, the boy’s expression turned serious, and he silently gripped his wand tighter.

"Senior, are you going to disregard the facts and stand up for him?" he asked, biting his thin lips nervously.

"First, tell me exactly what happened. How did it escalate to this point?" Xiwen asked with a faint smile, having noted the new student’s tension.

"The fact is, I opened the door to this compartment, intending to sit here. I don’t believe I committed any error," the handsome newcomer said with composure.

"That’s not a problem," Xiwen nodded slightly.

"Indeed. And then, the moment he saw my clothes, he began hurling insults at me. When he found out I was from an orphanage, he called me a 'Mudblood'," the boy continued. "Although I don’t know what a 'Mudblood' is, I assume it isn’t a kind word."

"Indeed, 'Mudblood' is an insulting term for Muggle-born wizards and is strictly forbidden at Hogwarts," Xiwen nodded.

Hearing this, Lestrange shrieked in disbelief, "We are the Sacred Twenty-Eight, the holy pure-bloods, Rosier! Do you really intend to defend such a Mudblood?"

"In fact, this is not my jurisdiction; it is a matter for a prefect," Xiwen said, shaking his head at Lestrange. "Furthermore, I strongly suggest you break your habit of verbal abuse, or you will find yourself in trouble one day."

Xiwen then turned back to the handsome boy and asked with interest, "Newcomer, what is your name?"

"My name is Tom Riddle, senior."